


Cruel to be Kind

by Chianine



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: HYDRA Trash Party, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-01
Updated: 2014-11-01
Packaged: 2018-02-23 10:55:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2545010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chianine/pseuds/Chianine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve breaks Bucky in ways HYDRA never could.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cruel to be Kind

**Author's Note:**

> Garbage Prompt:
> 
> At some point in the not so distant future Steve and Bucky are reunited - and once Bucky has recovered from his stint as a brainwashed assassin as well as possible - these two finally fess to the mutual not-quite-brotherly feelings for each other that they've both tried their hardest to ignore back in the day.
> 
> And everything is just about perfect for a while, right up until the point they first decide to have sex.
> 
> The problem? Well, Steve, being not only quite the gentleman but also extremely aware of the torture and punishments inflicted upon Bucky under Hydra's command tries his damned best to be as loving and gentle as he can.
> 
> All while Bucky is either perfectly aware of having been a party favor at this point or starts experiencing flashbacks during the sex - either way, turns out that the times he's been fucked by Hydra members & friends were the only times he's been treated with anything resembling faux-gentleness and care instead of being ignored at best and hurt at worst.  
> Steve being all sweet and gentle with him freaks him the hell out and makes him feel dirty and sullied and broken.  
> So he tries his best not to flinch away or cry or beg for mercy, because how could he ever justify denying the man he loves so dearly the pleasures others have taken from him time and time again?

_“Where is he?”_

_“Uuuh...” the lab tech was having difficulty keeping up with Pierce's long strides down the hall of the lab. “Sir, he's still going through a few maintenance procedures – ones that are sort of uncomfortable to watch...”_

_Pierce scowled at the tech, wondering why the little prick thought he had a weak stomach just because he was dressed in a five thousand-dollar suit. The tech tried to get in front of him before he entered the viewing room but Pierce pushed him aside._

_The Soldier was clamped onto an operating table, howling in such a way that you'd think the room should be covered in blood. But it wasn't. He was just getting a hand job._

_Pierce started laughing. “What the fuck kinda weird shit do you you pencil dicks get up to down here?”_

_“I know it looks strange,” the tech started, wanting to justify this very important part of their job, “but the Soldier needs to be, well, serviced in his, um, private regions just as regularly as all his other components. We don't want him getting distracted during an -”_

_“- Yeah, yeah, I get all that,” Pierce waved him off. “But why the hell is he screaming bloody fucking murder?”_

_“Oh,” the tech prepared for a longer explanation. “Well, the programming we've designed to make him feel comfortable, even satisfied with pain has the peculiar side-effect of making him hate pleasure. It fades slowly but when he's fresh out of reprogramming like this,” the tech had an evil glint in his eye, “even a kind word will make him wince.”_

_“Hmm,” Pierce shrugged, “kinky.”_

* * *

The sex had started almost immediately after Bucky showed up on Steve's doorstep. It was something Steve had always wanted, and even though a part of him felt guilty for taking advantage, it was hard to say no when Bucky was not only willing but aggressive. He would, quite literally, tear Steve's clothes off and throw him on the bed, covering him with kisses and taking him in his mouth or riding him into multiple orgasms. Steve didn't even know he was capable of that. He never allowed himself to be a lab rat and he hadn't had much experience on his own. 

At first it was thrilling, but it quickly lost it's charm. Bucky would never let Steve take _his_ role, and if Steve tried to run his hands over Bucky's body he would hold them still. He never wanted to be kissed on the lips, or anywhere really, and if Steve tried to touch him down there his hand was instantly removed with a firm _no._ Even pillow talk or sweet nothings got Steve shushed or a hand over his mouth, with Bucky saying things like _that is not necessary_ or _I need no reassurance_. Steve had lost his virginity to Bucky, as he had dreamed of doing his entire life, but he had always imagined it being different. Steve knew you couldn't put too much stock into what you imagine things are like before you experience them, but he was sure lovemaking could be a little more, well, loving?

In the darkness of his bedroom, Bucky was on top of him, grinding him hard and slow. He had been allowed to hold Bucky's hips though he would be stopped if he moved his hands. He was getting close, but as always he knew his orgasm would be partially ruined by the way Bucky would deny him when he lost himself and all he wanted was to hold Bucky close as he shuddered through it.

“Bucky... stop.” Steve whispered. “Stop, stop.”

Bucky was still, and Steve could just make out the concern on his face. “You don't like it?”

“I do,” Steve laughed, “it's just – why do we have to do it like this? Why can't I touch you, and hold you, and kiss you?”

“Why?”

“ _Why?_ Because I want to. Don't you want me to?”

Bucky said nothing, and Steve couldn't make out his expression.

“Bucky... don't you want me to?”

“I don't know.”

“You don't -?” Steve sat up and slightly nudged for Bucky to get off and lay beside him. He was already getting soft anyway. “I told you how much I've always wanted to be like this with you, how I dreamed about it when we were kids and even after I thought you were... well, I just, it wasn't about getting off. I wanted to kiss you, to hold you and touch every part of you, to do all the things you do to me. I wanted to make you feel good.”

“You _do_ make me feel good.”

“Nooo, but -” Steve was at a loss. “I want it to be more _mutual_. Not just me laying here while you service me. It's not – it's not fulfilling, Bucky. It feels... unequal.” Steve sighed. Ultimatums were a cheap means to getting one's way but he thought it appropriate in this situation. “I'm not going to keep doing this if it's always gonna be like _this_.”

“No, no!” Bucky shot up, his face desperate as he stroked Steve's chest. “Why?”

“See this?” Steve said, setting his hand on Bucky's as it explored his own chest.. “This is how I wanna touch you.”

Bucky turned his eyes away, swallowed then looked back to Steve, sad resignation all over his face. “Okay.”

“Don't you _want_ me to?”

“Yeah.”

“Can I kiss you?”

Bucky laid back uneasily, waiting. Steve cuddled their faces close, then coaxed his mouth open, taking his breath into his own lungs. He had pined so long for this, he wanted to make it last all night. Bucky's erratic breaths filled his mouth, and he imagined this moment meant the same for both of them. He put his hand over Bucky's heart, and it was beating as fast as his own. When they closed their sticky lips it sent something through him that he couldn't describe, a warm wave that seemed to grip onto the part of your brain that makes you think before you do things. Steve ended the kiss just to come back greedy for more, hands all over his body, finally getting a taste of that precious skin, his hair, his jaw, everything. 

It was the metal hand that threw him off. 

Bucky was gasping, looking like he had just had a bullet taken out of him.

“I'm sorry,” Steve said when he realized why he was on his back.

“No,” Bucky managed between breaths, “ _I'm_ sorry. I didn't mean to do that. I just – I felt like I had to make it stop. I don't know why.”

Steve turned over to hide his face in the pillow. “It's because you didn't like it. It's my fault. I pressured you.”

“No!” Bucky fell on top of Steve, caressing his back. “I wanted it. I did. It just – got to be too much. It was too good, it scared me.”

“Scared you?” Steve asked. “Why would you be scared of me?”

“I'm not. It was just the feeling. All the bad feelings. Scared, angry... sad. That's how I always feel when you touch me. Or when you tell me that you love me.”

Steve turned his head from the pillow, his interest piqued. “Do you think this is something _they_ did to you?”

“I think so.”

Steve turned back into the pillow, cursing ugly words into it that most people probably didn't think he knew.

“Hey,” Bucky shook his shoulder. “Do you remember how, when I first came to you, I would get sick every time I ate something sweet?”

“Yeah...” Steve wasn't sure why Bucky wanted to remind him of yet another reason Steve wished there were more Hydra agents left for him to hunt down and kill. 

“Well, I just kept eating them and eventually it went away.”

“What's your point?”

“Maybe, even if it hurts, you should just keep touching and kissing me and -”

“Bucky, no!” Steve flipped over and frowned. “Keep trying to do things to you while I'm fighting you and holding you down? Do you know what that sounds like? Do I need to say the word?”

“But it isn't like that. I _want_ you to do it. I always did. It was just – too hard to deal with while I was trying to make it good for you.”

Steve blew his cheeks out. “I don't know. Why don't we just take a break and wait until it fades off...”

_“No!”_ Bucky's voice surprised Steve. “It never will. You have to break it. To prove it wrong. To make it weaker than you, you have to fight through the pain.”

Steve pinched his forehead, trying to digest this logic. It sounded a lot like some kind of brainwashing mantra Hydra would use, but then again, they say you have to use the tools of the master to overcome him.

“Well how exactly are we supposed to “fight through the pain” without me feeling like a rapist?”

Bucky dropped his eyes. “I thought you said you wanted to help me, that you would do anything...”

“Don't – don't guilt me, please.”

“You could tie me down.”

Steve laughed. “Not only am I _not_ into that, I don't think there's anything in this apartment, including me, that could hold you down.”

“ _I_ can hold myself down.”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“My prosthetic. You can turn it off, and it will hold firm in any position. If I grasp my right wrist above my head, I can't move either arm at all.”

Steve peered at Bucky. “How did you figure this out? Is this something _they_ used to make you do?”

Bucky glanced to the side, and Steve had already learned that this was what he did when he was trying to figure out how to give away as little information as possible without lying. He opened his mouth, but Steve spared him the waste of breath.

“No. I'm not doing anything _they_ did.”

“It wouldn't be the same. I trust you, and... I love you. Please.”

Steve was a sucker for the L-word. He sat up. “You really think this will help?”

Bucky nodded. He brought both arms above his had, wrapping his metal fingers around his right wrist. “There's a scale, right in the base of the prosthetic, underneath. Press it,” he instructed, “and it'll be frozen in place.”

Steve leaned forward and began feeling around in Bucky's armpit, still not happy about putting another person, especially someone he loved so much who had been stripped of self-control for so long, in a position of helplessness. Finally he felt one scale that definitely was able to give, and he pushed in. 

Bucky winced as he was locked into place. “That's it.” He tested the hold, pulling his right arm every which way. It wasn't going anywhere. “All right, “ he said with a satisfied smile. “I'm ready.”

Steve looked him over. Moral discomfort aside, there was something undeniably erotic about having your lover hold himself down for you to do whatever you wanted to him. If only it didn't _hurt_.

“How am I gonna know when you want me to stop?”

Bucky was confused. “No – no, don't stop. I don't want you to stop.”

“Yeah, but what if you _do_ want me to stop?”

“I won't.”

“But what if you do?” Steve repeated. “Look, I'm not doing this unless there's a word that means stop.”

“No,” Bucky knit his eyebrows, “there's no stopping. If it hurts and I tell you to stop that means it's working. Don't stop no matter what.”

“Okay, “marshmallow,”” Steve volunteered. “If you say marshmallow, then I -”

“ _No!_ ” Bucky was getting annoyed. “Even if I say that, you keep going. This only works if it hurts really bad. Do you want me to hurt for no reason because you stopped too soon?”

“Of course not.”

“Well...”

Steve settled down next to Bucky, laying his open palm over his beating heart. He let his thumb lightly brush his nipple, enough to make Bucky squirm. Steve could almost believe it was a response to pleasure. He might have to tell himself that a few times just to get through this.

“What should I do?”

“You can do anything you want to me.”

Those words affected a shaky warmth in the pit of Steve's stomach. He couldn't help smiling. Bucky saw it. 

“Do all the things you've always wanted to do.”

“What are the things that feel the best – or I guess, the worst?”

“The things you like best. When you're soft, and gentle. When you try to kiss me, and say all those nice things – that's when I can't stand it.”

Steve started with a kiss, a tiny one, pinching lips between his own, sucking only enough to to let his tongue get a feel before he let them slip back out onto Bucky's teeth. Bucky always had this excruciating habit of licking and biting his lips. Excruciating for Steve, anyway. He was doing it now, taking what Steve had left behind into his own mouth while he blinked up at him, his eyes already begging for mercy, and Steve already thankful he had been ordered not to give it. 

Now his lips were slick like river rock and Steve couldn't grip them in his own, so he pressed in, licking his teeth until Bucky allowed a deeper intrusion, his jaw shaking as it forced itself open. Bucky could do little more than let Steve to take all that he had ever wanted. The sound of their kiss was wet, almost as dirty a sound as the one Bucky made whenever he slammed himself into Steve's lap. In his fantasies the only thing Steve ever heard when he kissed his true love was a swelling orchestra, but this was better. The film music was the sound of wanting and impotent wishing, but this sloppy composition of squelches and strangled breaths was the sound of having.

Steve could feel Bucky's body cringing beneath him, so after a few careful nibbles on a piece of his bottom lip (that supple flesh had been like heaven running over his shaft but between his teeth it was enough to die for) he lifted away to see the effect he was having. Bucky's shining eyes betrayed the agony he was containing. Steve kissed them, tasting the beginnings of tears. 

_“You're doing so good...”_

When two people are this close, they never have to speak above the lowest whisper; they're just breathing syllables into each other's ears, mouth and hair, repeating empty phrases meant only to encourage the much more trustworthy mode of communication found in touch. But for Bucky, these words did have meaning, and the meaning was pain. His body and his mind did not accept praise or love, and being unable to flee from the assault, he took it like a man having his orifices sealed off after being fed an entire bottle of ipecac.

Steve nuzzled him, tickling his cheek with the tip of his nose, planting little kisses and leaving a winding trail of wet spots. _“You were always the strong one, Bucky. I took my strength from you. You never backed down from anything. I loved you, and I wanted to be like you. That's the secret no one knows. I've spent my entire life trying to live up to you.”_

With his hand on Bucky's bicep, Steve could feel the muscles flexing with every soft word he said. Steve reminded himself that pain was the goal. A soothing pet from his thumb, meant to give support and assurance, only had the effect of causing more misery. Bucky cried out for the first time when Steve let his fingertips ghost past his nipple, down his chest and even past his navel.. 

“Steve stop!” One tear fell. “Please you have to stop this! I don't want this anymore – please! Marshmallow.”

Bucky looked pathetic. Steve had never seen him beg for anything, and he never imagined he would beg so desperately. Steve was torn. A part of him wanted to end this, and another part wanted to make sure Bucky would never have to go through this again.

“You're not going to, are you?” Bucky asked with terror in his voice.

“You said no matter what...”

“No!” Bucky sobbed. “No, no, please...”

Steve tucked his face between Bucky's and the cold metal arm. He couldn't watch Bucky suffer. He needed to find some quiet place in his mind where he could remain for this ordeal to continue. As his finger retraced their path up Bucky's chest, he found it.

_“When we were kids, I always wished you would take advantage of me. But you never did. Of course you didn't. You were too decent. You never did a cruel thing to no one. It didn't stop me from hoping you'd come home drunk some night and climb on top of me in bed and use me. I would here you come in in the dark, and I would pray that this would be the night, but you only ever just flopped beside me and started snoring...”_

Bucky was twisting his wrist in the metal hand, and Steve reached up to still his hand, then let his fingers run over Bucky's wet face before returning to his smooth chest. 

_“You used to have hair on your chest,”_ Steve said, hands flowing down to his navel again, _“and here, too. Dark hair. You started getting it when you were fifteen. I knew I would never have anything like that. You were never an awkward teenager. You just got more and more beautiful with each passing year...”_

Steve began kissing his chest, imagining the light fur that used to be there, remembering how badly he had wanted to feel it against his lips.

_“In the summertime, you would spend most of the day shirtless. I would horse around with you just to get you to wrestle me down so I could feel your skin all over me. It was the only way I could touch you.”_

Bucky was struggling again to free himself from the metal fist. Steve's lips were like pin pricks, his ghosting fingertips felt like they were tearing into burnt flesh, and hearing these stories about how much he was loved and even worshiped were like nails on a chalkboard. 

“Since I knew you would never use me like I wanted you to, I made up a fantasy. I imagined that someone would break into our apartment when I was gone, tie you up and blindfold you, rob us and leave you there like that. When I came home, I would find you helpless. I would touch all over your gorgeous body, and even bring you off with my hand or my mouth. And you would never know it was me. I spent so much time trying to imagine what your come would taste like...”

Steve's feathery kisses were making their way to Bucky's navel and beyond. He was mewling and begging again, his mind unable to fathom the insane torture Steve was going to lay on him. He hoped he might pass out soon.

“... but now I'm going to know for sure.”

Steve was ready when Bucky kicked out and tried to get up off the bed. He clicked his tongue softly, calming him and soothing him like an animal caught in barbed wire. Every muscle in his body was taut, he was as rigid as a seizure victim, and his skin was clammy with sweat. Steve forced his legs apart and got between them, pressing a firm hand on his chest and waiting to feel his body relax before he continued his attack.

Closing his eyes did not make any of it go away, it only meant the torments came with no warning. When he first felt the warmth of Steve's mouth taking him, he screamed loud enough to wake the dead. Steve, for his part, was in a paradise whose doors he thought would never be open to him. He was full of that precious cock he had dreamed so much about, taking it to the hilt, choking himself on it and loving it. If he could hear over Bucky's howling, he would know that he was moaning like an insatiable whore. The first droplets of precome were salty and dark, flavoring the wetness his mouth kept providing for him to perform his task. 

It was the first blow job he had ever given anyone and Bucky wasn't making it any easier. Steve still had to wrestle with his legs while he had his mouth full. With his hands occupied, he had to be sure not to let Bucky slip out of his mouth. Steve didn't even notice when Bucky stopped screaming. He wanted that come so bad it was the only thing on his mind. A few shudders were the only warning before his mouth was flooded. 

Steve sat up to take a look at his handiwork. Bucky was absolutely destroyed, laying there covered in sweat and his stringy hair clinging to his lips and forehead.

“Well... how do you feel?”

Bucky laughed. “I feel like my arm is getting a cramp.”

Steve pressed the release on Bucky's arm so he could sit up. They both winced at the red rawness of his wrist where he had been struggling.

“So – did it work?”

Bucky leaned forward and surprised Steve with a deep kiss. He took Steve's fingers and sucked at the tips, then led his hand slowly down his neck and chest. “Looks like it.” Then, a dark playfulness shadowed his eyes, and he said, “Wanna bet I can make you regret breaking me like that?”

Wha -” 

Bucky already had Steve thrown face down on the bed before he could a single word out.

“What was it you were saying about always wishing I would take advantage of you but never did because I was too decent?” Bucky teased. “Well, I'm not so decent anymore.”


End file.
